


Magic Is Real

by BiscuitsForPotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Children, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Kid Fic, Young Love, little Draco, little Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/pseuds/BiscuitsForPotter
Summary: When eight year-old Hermione wanders into the woods on her way home from school and stumbles upon a strange boy there, she makes an astonishing discovery: magic is real. But that's just the beginning. Written for TheMourningMadam's Fairy Tale Fest; Based on "Käthchen and the Kobold."





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to GracefulLioness for her wonderful help with this story. 
> 
> Here is the link to the original story: https://www.worldoftales.com/European_folktales/German_folktale_33.html
> 
> When I read it, I was immediately drawn to write the fluffiest of fluff. I hope you enjoy it!

A chilling wind crawled across the autumn landscape, shaking the brightly-coloured leaves on the slowly-baring trees. It was certainly a beautiful sight. Perhaps that was why the Granger family had packed up all their belongings and moved to the English countryside. Hermione didn’t really know. She was only eight years old, after all.

What she did know was that one day during this past summer, her parents told her they were taking a year to live somewhere else. The whole family packed up their house in London and arrived out in this rural community just in time to celebrate her most recent birthday. Hermione had been immediately enrolled in a local school, despite her protests to be homeschooled.

“My darling, you know your father and I are far too busy to homeschool you,” her mum would always reply.

Hermione soon concluded that children were the same everywhere: the children here treated her much the same as the children in her old school. She still ate lunch alone and still had to endure the jeers of her classmates in the school yard.

And just as before, she turned to the two things she could rely on: books and her own imagination.

When the other children in her class chased each other in the school yard, laughing and screaming, Hermione sat on the steps, a book in her lap.

When she walked home after the final bell rang, she allowed her mind to wander to the fantastical places she had read about. After a while, she reached beyond her books to create her own stories. The lush hills surrounding her home became the setting for her fantasies, and she, the heroine. Within weeks of her arrival, her trek to and from school became her favorite part of the day – a respite from the bullies in her classroom.

By the time mid-November rolled around, there was just enough of a chill in the air that Hermione shivered as she skipped down the school steps past her other classmates. She hugged her jumper to herself. It wasn’t quite cold enough to be biting, but just enough that she wondered if her mum would make her a cup of hot cocoa tonight before bed.

Thoughts of chocolate dancing in her mind, she began to walk along her usual path home. Today, the sky seemed extra blue, and she lifted her face to bask in the late-afternoon sunlight. The warmth of the rays soaked into her skin; she grinned, taking a deep breath.

The normal path she took home was paved in asphalt dulled by aging. As she walked, her mary jane school shoes made scuffling sounds. Sometimes when she walked along this road, she would imagine it was a mighty river; sometimes, she imagined she was traversing the Milky Way Galaxy.

But now? For some reason, she just couldn’t think of anything in particular. Hermione kicked a small stone and sighed. Why wouldn’t her imagination carry her away today? Without her afternoon daydreams, her life in the countryside was nothing but lonely and this path became straightforward and boring.

Looking up, she noted the leaves blowing in the wind overhead. Maple, Oak, and Ash, they all floated about, headed in the same direction rather quickly. They danced about as they made their way over the path and into the forest to her left.

To Hermione, it seemed as though the leaves were being propelled by some kind of force… some kind of magic. Her mouth hung open in wonder as a larger gust of wind carried even more rust and scarlet coloured leaves away.

A little voice in that same wind seemed to whisper to Hermione,  _ “Follow us!” _

Did the wind just… did it speak to her? Her imagination had never spoken to her before.

Hermione shivered, though that could have been the chill.

To her left, she saw a little path in the woods, covered in leaves, the afternoon sun filtering through the thick trees above. Though she didn’t quite know how, the air seemed sweeter there… thick with something wonderful.

She took a step closer.

Some children would take one look at an unknown path and run in the other direction. Some children might be afraid to break routine.

Hermione Granger was not  _ some children _ . She eyed the nearby path in the woods with a twinkle in her eye. Surely, some adventure would await her imagination there.

Taking one last sweeping glance around, she hopped off the main road and ducked under a branch at the edge of the forest.

From the moment she stepped under the canopy, the world fell oddly silent. The sounds of other children walking home from school in the distanced faded away, as did the whizzing of far-away cars. When she moved her foot forward onto the leaf-strewn path, she expected to hear the familiar crunch of nature beneath the soles of her shoes.

Nothing. She tried again.

Though she saw the plants, sticks, and dirt move and break under her shoes, not a single sound made its way to her ears.

How very odd. This was not like any forest she had ever been in. Were forests in this area of the country all so strange? She would have to look it up in her atlas later. Hermione moved forward, away from the familiar and into the unknown. A little thrill shot up her spine as she began to inch down a little hill.

Looking up once more, she found herself surrounded by more warm hues than she could name. Very few of these trees were barren yet, so it was almost as though she were walking beneath a great, colourful quilt. The blanket of branches stretched above her as far as she could see, with only tiny gaps here or there, the splash of blue just beyond them contrasting the canopy.

Was this forest magical? It gave her goosebumps just being here. It was as though she had stepped out of the world she knew and into somewhere secret.

Somewhere special.

Hermione jumped as sound reached her ears once more. Though her world had been silent only for a brief time, the trickling of water nearby sounded out of place. Making her way down a little further, she found a stream winding its way across the forest floor toward some unknown destination.

Looking up once more, she saw she was standing directly under a patch of blue sky. Two leaves danced across this gap, flying in the same direction as the stream.

_ “Follow us!” _ the wind seemed to say.

And so she did.

Hermione walked along the edge of the stream for some time as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Though she could not see it beginning to set, the light in the forest seemed to grow dimmer every few minutes, her shadow elongating. Less light also meant less heat; that much Hermione knew. As a smart girl, perhaps she should have thought of retreating home. She should have thought about the cold that would soon seep past her jumper and about the pangs of hunger that would soon set in if she was not home in time for dinner. Besides, it would be dark soon, and she hardly knew her way at night, let alone in the daytime.

None of these thoughts occurred to Hermione, though. She was single-minded as she trekked forward. She continued to follow the stream with curious delight, as though she were drawn to whatever was waiting for her along its path.  _ Something _ was waiting for her. She just knew it.

As an orange glow began to illuminate the forest, she was met by another sound, quite different from the soft murmuring of the stream. This sound was loud and shrill, and it pierced the air like a needle popping a balloon.

A laugh.

It wasn’t a hearty guffaw or a light giggle, but a child’s laugh.

Hermione’s mind immediately filled with questions. Who was laughing? Was it another student from her school? What was so funny, out here in the middle of the forest?

She had to see who was laughing. This suddenly became more important than anything else; it was more important than finding her way home or losing herself in any manner of imaginary story. Hermione just knew that if she didn’t find the source of this laugh that it would eat away at her.

Quick as a rabbit, Hermione crept forward along the stream until she came across a small clearing. There, in the gaps between the trees, she saw him: a boy, clearly no older than herself. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed; from his mouth came the loveliest of laughs: pure and joyful. From this close, his laugh almost sounded like bells ringing.

She tiptoed closer, keeping low to the ground.

The boy had shockingly-blonde hair. It glowed in the sunset. She could see he was a handsome boy, though she didn’t really know what that meant. His features were quite pointy, but when he laughed, his cheeks rounded with little dimples forming on either side of his mouth. He almost looked like a little elf, though she was sure that couldn’t be.

Elves only existed in books, and she was certain she hadn’t stumbled into one of those.

Hermione squinted, trying to see what he was laughing at. It didn’t take long to find out.

At the boy’s feet sat a frog. It didn’t appear to be in pain (that had been her first fear), but it did appear… oh that was odd.

It was blue.

Hermione had to stifle a giggle, herself. A blue frog? No wonder the boy couldn’t stop laughing. It was a rather silly sight.

Hermione watched as the boy wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, straightened up, and looked around. She flattened herself against a tree as his gaze passed by. Peering around again, she saw that he was now fixated on something in a tree… a squirrel, perhaps?

Yes, it seemed to be a squirrel. Hermione caught sight of its bushy tail and little brown body hanging onto the tree trunk. The boy seemed to be staring at it quite intently.

He stared for quite some time, and it seemed the squirrel sensed it was being watched, because it did not move an inch as the boy continued looking. What this boy playing at? What was he trying to accomplish by–?

Hermione gasped.

The squirrel had turned green!

The boy burst into another fit of laughter. “Yes!” he cheered, stamping the ground in celebration.

Hermione had so many questions, she was fit to burst. But more than that, what had the boy done to the squirrel? And how?

“How on earth did you turn that poor squirrel green?” she emerged from behind her hiding place, her face scrunched in a scowl.

The boy jumped two feet off the ground and whipped around.

His pointy features passed through several expressions – surprise, suspicion, anxiety – before landing on what he must have thought was a cool one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice came out in a drawl, as though he thought he was better than her. Hermione knew that voice. She had heard it from nearly every bully she had faced since nursery.

“Don’t be daft. That squirrel over there is green. And the frog on the ground is blue. What did you do to them?”

The boy coughed. “I didn’t do anything. They were already that way when I got here.”

Hermione folded her arms, leaning into one hip. “I know for a fact that there are no blue frogs around here, as we’re not in a rainforest. And as for a green squirrel? How could there be such a thing? Clearly, you did something. Besides, I  _ saw _ you.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, his pupils darting back and forth as though he were sure someone would catch them out here in the middle of the forest.

“You saw me?” he whispered, biting his lip.

“ _ Yes _ , I saw you. Now explain.”

Immediately, the boy’s demeanor changed. Instead of the sheepish look on his face previously, a giddy sort of pride took its place.

“Well, yeah. Okay. I  _ did _ change their colours.”

“But how?” Hermione demanded.

Draco looked her up and down, his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to gauge something about her. After a moment, he shrugged. “Lots of practice.” His answer was vague, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I only hope you didn’t hurt them.” Hermione walked over and kneeled beside the blue frog. It hopped away almost immediately.

The boy laughed, though this time the sound wasn’t like bells at all. It was a single blast. “Ha! It doesn’t hurt them. Just a charm. Should wear off in a few minutes.”

Hermione drew back. “A charm?”

The boy’s eyes grew wide. He swallowed. Stepping backward until his back was against a tree, the boy looked as though his mind was going at a million miles a minute. It seemed, at least for now, that he had lost the ability of speech.

Hermione spoke instead. “You make it sound as though you used… well, charms are a type of magic. But that can’t be. That’s just not possible.”

Not for the first time since she had begun her journey, Hermione felt as though she might have really stumbled into a storybook.

“Besides,” she continued. “You don’t look like some sort of all-powerful sorcerer. Or even a sorcerer’s apprentice. You’re just a boy. Even if magic was real, why should you be able to perform it?”

At these words, the boy puffed up, his face filled with indignation.

“I should be able to because it is my birthright!” he proclaimed. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Hermione looked to her left and then to her right. She half expected some sort of royal band to play an overture of sorts with the way he spoke. When no band appeared, she coughed.

“Erm, no. should I?”

The boy grumbled. “Well, I suppose not. You’re likely a Muggle.”

“I’m a  _ what?” _

“A Muggle. A non-magical person.” The boy smacked his forehead. “Oh, bugger. Father’ll want you Obliviated now.”

“Your father will want me  _ what? _ ” Hermione’s head spun as she watched the boy approach her. “You rude boy! I’ll tell my mother and father on you and they’ll call the police on you and your father for… for…” She searched for the strange word the boy had used. “Well, for whatever it is you said your father would do to me!”

“For Obliviating you? Oh, stop worrying so much.”

With each step the boy took toward her, the faster her heart beat. By the time the boy reached out to grab her, it felt as though it would fall out of her chest. As the boy reached out to grab hold of her, she burst into tears.

“You awful boy! Being mean to those poor animals and claiming to do magic! And now you want to take me to your father so he can hurt me!”

These words seem to have some sort of effect on the boy, because he drew back for a moment, his hand retracting to his side. Hermione felt hot tears flowing down her cheeks as the pressure of the moment began to ebb.

The boy didn’t say or do anything for several long moments, though she could still sense his presence beside her. And then, on her right shoulder, a tap.

Hermione wiped her eyes and looked. The boy’s face had gone sheepish once more, and he somehow looked smaller. Not tiny or anything. Just… kinder, almost. In his hand was a white handkerchief.

“Here,” he muttered, offering it up to her. Most boys her age would offer such a thing begrudgingly, but there was no trace of resentment in his voice. Instead, only remorse. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Hermione accepted the hankie and dabbed her eyes. When all her tears had gone, she sniffed and held the cloth out at arm’s length. It really was a lovely handkerchief – cream and embroidered with the most delicate silver thread. In the corner were three letters: D.A.M.

“D.A.M.? Are those your initials?” she asked before folding the hankie.

“Yes,” the boy replied. “Draco Abraxas Malfoy.”

“That’s a mouthful of a name.” She grinned. “At my school, most of the boys are called Michael or Christopher.”

“Oh?” The boy… Draco… looked upset at her accusation. “What’s your name, then?”

“Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger.”

“So you’re saying ‘Hermione’ isn’t a mouthful?”

“Well, I suppose it is. But–”

“But nothing. We’ve both got interesting names. And that’s far better than Michael or Pansy.”

“Pansy?” Hermione tilted her head.

“My friend. She hates being named after a flower.”

A brief silence fell between the two of them as Hermione tried to phrase her next question in a polite way.

“So where are you from? I haven’t seen you in school at all.”

“I am schooled at home for right now, but I’ll go off to proper school in four years.”

“Are you going to learn more charms there?” Hermione joked.

“Well, yes,” Draco answered, quite serious. “Charms and potions and herbology, too.”

“Potions? Herbology? Do you mean chemistry and plant biology?”

Draco shook his head. “Of course not. Why would we learn those sorts of things when Hogwarts is a school for magic?”

Hermione was sure she misheard. School for magic? How absurd. But this boy… Draco… he seemed quite serious. Her brain quickly began to assemble a sort of picture. If Draco was taking this seriously… if he really meant the words he said… if he really meant what he said about a school for magic, then…

Was magic real? The kinds of magic she read about in books by C.S. Lewis or Ursula K. Le Guin? Was it possible to live in a world where objects flew or could be cursed? Where logic could be defied? It all made her head spin.

“So you’re saying that there’s magic in the world?”

Draco nodded.

“So that would make you a… what?”

“A wizard,” Draco answered simply.

Hermione paused again. “Can all people do magic? If they try hard enough? Or study?”

At this, Draco barked a laugh. “Merlin, no. Only a few special people can do magic. Most people, like you, are Muggles. Non-magic.”

Hermione frowned. Her mind was still reeling from all this information; for a moment, there had been a speck of hope that perhaps – just  _ perhaps _ , she might learn to do magic, too.

But Draco was quick to dash that hope. And apparently, he was also good at reading people as well.

“Does that upset you?” he asked.

Hermione sighed. “It does, a bit. It’s not exactly fun to learn that magic exists in one breath and then be told you can never do it in another.”

“Well it’s no matter, really,” Draco said. “You’ll forget it all soon enough.”

Hermione moved to stand right beside him. He didn’t seem to like the invasion of personal space. Nevertheless, she pressed on until her face was inches from his, her eyes boring deep into his. He trembled under her gaze.

“What do you mean, forget?” She spoke each word as if she were hammering it into him.

Draco cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like I said. My father will likely Obliviate you once I tell him what’s happened.”

Hermione knitted her eyebrows together. “Obliviate. What does that mean?” 

“It means he’ll erase your memory of all of this. It’ll be like it never happened.”  


All the air that had been in Hermione’s lungs left in an instant. It was like a punch to the gut. She looked around, her heart suddenly racing, as she tried to soak in all the details around her: the purple glow on the horizon; the two leaves blowing directly overhead; the burble of the stream nearby; the concerned face of the little boy she had found.

“I don’t want my memory erased!” she cried. “I don’t want to forget the forest and the magic and… and you.”

Draco’s eyes went wide as the last word fell from her lips. He seemed to consider her for a moment, those same eyes growing bright.  


“I don’t want your memory erased, either.”

Her heart stopped. “You don’t?”

“No. I like you, Hermione. I like you way more than Pansy, anyway.”

Hermione sank down onto a log, blinking. “So are you not going to take me to your father?”

Draco shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. I actually have an idea.”  


“An idea? What?”  


“Let’s run away together. Just the two of us. That way you don’t have to have your memory erased and we can both learn about magic.” Draco spoke with confidence as he laid out his plan. “We’ll find somewhere to go where my parents can’t find us.”  


Hermione’s mind immediately flew to her own parents. What would they think, should she not come home? It was already getting dark – the sun had dipped below the horizon already. Surely, her parents would be out looking for her by now. She was supposed to have arrived at home long before the sun set each day. Were her mum and dad worried? They often worked late, so maybe… just maybe they didn’t notice yet.

“I don’t know. I think someone will come looking for me.”  


“Someone will come looking for me, too.” Draco shrugged. “But I don’t want to go home.” He sat beside Hermione and kicked at the dirt.  


“You don’t want to go home? But why? You can do magic! I’m sure your home is wonderful.”  


Draco shot a glance her way, but quickly returned his gaze downward. Hermione looked closely and saw that his face was tinged a bit pink.

“It’s not that I don’t like my home. It’s just… my parents want me to get engaged.”

Hermione sprang back in surprise. “Engaged? How old are you?”

“I’m seven,” he boasted. “Nearly seven and a half.”  


“But why are you getting married now?”

Draco gave another long, blasting laugh. “I’m not getting married! Don’t be ridiculous.”  


“But you just said–”

“I said  _ engaged _ . Not married. That won’t happen ‘til I’m at least seventeen.” Draco’s smile faded. He rested his chin in his hands. “This just means my parents made arrangements for me with a suitable witch.”  


The gears turned in Hermione’s head. “So your parents picked someone out? You don’t get to choose?”

Draco shook his head. He looked absolutely miserable; it was as though just thinking about marrying this girl… whoever his parents had picked, could zap all the joy out of him. Hermione could hardly imagine how he must be feeling, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco half-smiled. “’S all right.”

“I wish there was something I could do.”  


They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione stared up at the darkening canopy of leaves. Draco picked up a stick and began to drag it in the dirt. In the silence, a little voice in the back of Hermione’s head told her that she probably ought to be getting home. The moon was beginning to rise, and surely her parents were worrying…  


Draco sat up abruptly, dropping his stick. “I know what you can do!” he announced, his eyes shining. He seemed to wait to be sure she was listening. “Let’s run away and get married, the two of us! That way you don’t have to be Obliviated and I won’t have to marry Astoria!”

The words tumbled from his mouth like soda from a bottle that had been shaken too hard. When he finished speaking, he stared at Hermione, mouth molded in a grin, eyes manic.

She, on the other hand, was not so enthusiastic. “You’re crazy!” she cried. “Stark-raving mad! You’ve gone ‘round the bend! Out of your mind! Get married? Are you a nutter?” Hermione scooted backward along the log until she had reached the very edge.

Unfortunately, Draco scooted along with her. The closer he got, the faster her heart beat. When neither of them could move any more, Draco leaned forward. And then, an odd sort of thing happened.

The next time he smiled, mouth closed, dimples showing on his rounded cheeks, she felt her stomach do a strange flip-flop. When he spoke to her, it was in a whisper.

“Think about it, Hermione. If we run away together and get married, then I can teach you all about magic.”

Draco stood and extended his hand to her.

Hermione rose slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving his.

Her heart beat wildly as her gaze moved to his hand. She was sorely tempted to take it – to follow him into the moonlit night. Oh, how she longed to learn about magic. Potions and charms… It was a whole realm of knowledge of which she knew nothing! There were so many things in this world that she wanted to discover. It all sounded like a grand adventure.

She took a step toward Draco. His eyes shone in the moonlight.  


And then she hesitated.  


Looking back, her eyes traveled to the path where she came from. Water still burbled through the forest, and she knew that if she followed it upstream, she would find the road again. This little detour would be over. She would simply go home and try to forget the boy in the woods who told her that magic existed; she would try to be content with her mum and dad and their quiet life. Certainly, they would miss her terribly if she ran away.  


From behind her, she felt Draco’s body grow close again. She felt his breath tickle her ear as he leaned in and whispered.  


“Forget them, Hermione. Come with me, and we’ll never have to worry about things like parents again. We’ll have adventures together, just you and me.”

It was as though he could read her thoughts.  


She turned to face him. “Never is an awfully long time.”  


He grinned.  


“Exactly.”

Hermione suddenly found herself unable to wipe her own grin from her face. She reached forward and took his hand. She gave it a squeeze, and the two took off into the night with nothing but the moon to guide them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	2. Gardenia, Calla Lily, and Tulip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, endless thanks to GracefulLioness.

Deeper into the forest they trekked, Draco leading her by the hand. He seemed to know where he was going, as he hadn’t yet paused. Not once.   


But after an hour or so of wandering through the woods, suspicion began to creep in that perhaps, her new friend did not know the way.   


“Where are we going?” she asked after a time. Her feet were growing tired, the chill in the air had grown deeper and had begun to seep into her bones. No matter how tightly she clutched her jumper, she could no longer seem to get warm. There was also a soreness in her stomach that could only mean one thing: she was hungry. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but are we going to stop and eat something?”   


“We’re almost there!” Draco called over his shoulder. “Hang on just a bit longer.”

Feeling reassured, Hermione moved her head from side to side, trying to soak in this nighttime wonder.

The forest all around them felt alive. With the wind blowing through the branches above, the trees seemed to breathe, much as she did with her own lungs. The rustle of the leaves on the ground almost sounded like someone speaking – beckoning them onward.

The voice that seemed to call her earlier came to her once again.  _ “Follow us.” _

For a long while, Hermione had seen no trace of wildlife. Other than the swaying trees above them, the forest was quite still. Painted in soft, blue moonlight, everything around her looked as though it was made of magic.

Of course, now that Hermione knew magic was real… everything seemed possible.

To her front, Draco spoke again, this time in a whisper.

“We’re getting close. Look!”

He pointed out into the darkness, and Hermione followed the direction of his finger. For a moment, it looked as though he wasn’t pointing at anything, but then she saw something – a glimmer of sorts.

“It looks like a firefly,” Hermione said, squinting. Indeed, the little spot of light in front of them was bobbing up and down in mid-air. Hermione had seen plenty of fireflies before. She wasn’t quite sure why Draco felt the need to point it out.   


“That’s no firefly,” Draco said, tightening his grip on her hand. “That’s a fairy.”   


Hermione’s jaw fell open.   


“A fairy? Are you saying that fairies are real?” Her head shot back up again; she craned her neck, trying to get a better look at that little glow in the distance.

“Of course they are!” Even through the darkness, Hermione could tell he was grinning. “They’re just as real as dragons or hinkypunks.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what a hinkypunk was, but  _ dragons? _ She shook her head, as though doing so would shake out the notion of dragons existing.

“So where are we going anyway?” she asked.

“To the Land of Fairies,” Draco answered. “They’ll be able to marry us there.” He stopped.   


“The Land of Fa–?”

Hermione’s voice faded away as she stared ahead. There, amongst the trees, hundreds of little lights began to appear, emerging from the darkness. The little lights traveled, flying toward them. And when they began to surround Hermione and Draco? It was like a cascade of lights streaming all around them.

Magic was definitely real, Hermione decided.   


From among the fairies surrounding them, a single fairy paused before the two of them. Though tiny, she was magnificently beautiful: pale green in colour, with delicate wings sprouting from her back. She held her pointy, little chin high, and with an air of dignity. Hermione marveled at the little woman. How could such things exist in the world? It was completely wondrous.

“Shut your mouth, human girl. You look like a fish who has just been caught.”

The little fairy had spoken!

Hermione hadn’t realized that her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut.

“I–I apologize,” she stammered.

“Do you know who I am?” the fairy asked.

While Hermione shook her head, Draco answered right away. “You’re the Fairy Queen, aren’t you?”

She inclined her head. “Precisely.” Though she seemed upright and regal, there was also a benevolent air about her. Draco also seemed to sense this; he smiled as he bowed deeply.

He squeezed her hand, as if to signal her to do the same. She curtsied deeply, as her grandmother had taught her. Rising again, the fairy motioned for the two of them to follow her. Hermione shot Draco a look; he seemed almost giddy. Even in the darkness, his bright eyes and wide grin were obvious.

“This way, children. I will show you what you seek.”

Through the darkness they walked together, fairies swirling around them like hundreds of little, fluttering stars. After a minute or two, they reached a great tree that stretched all the way to the canopy, its trunk thick and wide. From the moment she saw it, Hermione knew this was a special tree – a magical tree.

No words were exchanged as they walked right up to the tree. With a grand sweeping gesture, the Fairy Queen flew forward right into the tree…   


…and vanished!

One moment she was there and the next, she was gone.

“Where did she go?” Hermione hissed, looking around, for surely, this was some sort of optical illusion.

“To the Land of Fairies, of course. Weren’t you listening? Come on!”

Draco squeezed her hand once more. Together, they stepped up to the tree. It seemed so solid. Perhaps a fairy could step through it, but two children? Hermione’s heart gave a nervous jolt.

“Ready? On the count of three. One, two–”

She closed her eyes.

They both jumped. Hermione half-anticipated that she would simply hit the trunk and fall backward. But she didn’t. When nothing came and she simply passed through the trunk, her stomach swooped as though she had missed a step.

Though her eyes remained clamped shut, she felt an immediate difference. Gone was the chill in the air; instead, she felt surrounded by a sweet warmth. It cradled her body and coaxed her eyes open.   


What she saw then took her breath away.   


They were still in a forest, but it was unlike any forest Hermione had ever seen. The trees grew gnarled and ancient, twisting their way upward like great vines. The ground, illuminated by a giant moon, shone in bright hues of blue.

And all around her? Fairies. Hundreds of them – perhaps even thousands. They lined tree branches and sat upon leaves, as if all awaiting their arrival.

“Welcome to the Land of Fairies, human children,” called a voice from just below the biggest, most gnarled tree.

It was the Fairy Queen.   


Beside her, Draco began to fidget. He had seemed so confident earlier, but now she could feel the nerves coming off of him in waves.

“Are you all right?” she whispered as they approached the waiting crowd of fairies and their queen.

“Of course,” he replied, though she could hear his voice shaking. “The Fairy Queen will marry us.”

When they reached the base of the great tree and bowed once more, the Fairy Queen acknowledged them with a solemn nod.   


“Now, my children, what drew you to the Land of Fairies? It is not often that we see children here. Especially children as special as you two.”   


Hermione and Draco looked at each other briefly, the same surprised expression reflected in each of their eyes.

“S-special?” Hermione croaked.

“Oh, yes. Many children come to play in these woods. Big children. Small children. Kind children. Mean children. They all pass through here. But none of them are particularly remarkable. None of them can really sense that we are here. Though we may exist in plain sight right before their eyes, they will never see us.”

The queen paused and surveyed the two children, a gentle curiosity in her tiny face. “But you are not like those many children. You not only knew of us, but sought us out. There are not many children in the human world like yourselves, powerful and clever. And that makes you special.”   


Hermione and Draco exchanged looks again.   


“Clever,” Hermione whispered in awe.   


“Powerful,” Draco spoke under his breath.

“So tell me, human children, what brings you into the Land of Fairies? Why did you seek us?”

The Fairy Queen moved to sit in midair, and as she did, a tiny golden throne of sorts appeared beneath her.

Having been complimented, it seemed that Draco had regained his confidence. He cleared his throat and began to speak in a way that she didn’t know little boys could.

“My dear Fairy Queen, we stand before you today with a request that only you can fulfill.”   


Hermione concluded that he must have heard someone talk like that. Or perhaps, she thought, her heart fluttering a bit, he had read language like that in a book.

“And what is that?” the Fairy Queen asked.   


“We wish to be married.” Draco spoke the words plainly and without any hint of embarrassment; though his cheeks flushed, it seemed to be from a rush of excitement more than anything.   


“Married?” The Fairy Queen began to laugh. “Two human children get married by fairies? Don’t be ridiculous.”   


Though she saw Draco falter for a moment, the queen’s words only made Hermione indignant. She stood up tall and spoke directly.

“It is only a game, O Fairy Queen. We only wish to play. It would be so beautiful.”

Draco’s eyes shifted in her direction for a moment, and she shot him a grin. Perhaps, if they switched tactics, the Fairy Queen would be more inclined to listen.

“Yes, please. I only meant that we could be married as a game,” Draco corrected himself. “We do so love each other and wish to be engaged.”   


Hermione felt herself blush from head to toe at these words. Though the air in the Land of Fairies was sweet and warm, she felt a little shiver travel up her spine.   


“My children, do you mean it? That you wish to be married one day?”

They both nodded.

“Very well. Do you have rings?”

Both children looked at each other. It seemed they had forgotten about that part.

“Do we need anything else?” Hermione asked. “Other than rings, that is.”

“No, my darlings. Just the rings, a blessing from me, and a kiss. Then you shall be bonded for life by Fairy law.”   


“A kiss?” Hermione gasped. Being only eight years-old, she had never kissed anyone before.   


“Does that bother you?” asked Draco. “Because it doesn’t have to be a big, mushy kiss. It can just be something like this.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his lips brushing the warm spots on her cheeks.   


Rather than horrible, as she had expected, the sensation of the kiss was rather pleasant. Her stomach flipped at the thought of doing it again.

“Was that all right?” Draco asked.

“It was lovely.” She beamed at him. “Let’s look for rings and be married properly.”

“Yes, and then we can have many more adventures!” he cried. Turning to the Fairy Queen, Draco straightened his posture. “Please, my Queen, where might we find rings?”   


The Queen did not reply in words, but instead, she drew her hands in front of her and waved them about. Several nearby fairies flew toward Draco and Hermione, each hosting a different flower above its head.

“Here in the Land of Fairies,” the Fairy Queen explained, “our wedding rings are not made from anything as heavy or as cavalier as gold. They are made of flower petals, mixed together and molded to your finger. Dainty and lovely, they shall serve as a reminder to the wearer that, just as one cares for a flower, one must care for love and nurture it. Do you understand, my children?”

Hermione nodded, though she was not entirely sure she understood.

“For your rings, I shall choose petals of the gardenia, calla lily, and tulip. Does this suit your needs?”

Hermione did not know much of flowers; only that her grandmother liked to grow them in her great gardens. But it seemed Draco knew much more than she, because he immediately began to voice his opinion.

“Those are lovely choices. Mother always said a proper wedding should include calla lilies. What colour tulips do you intend to use?”

“Why, red, of course.”

“Excellent. I approve. Those flowers will be perfect. Hermione?”   


Having never really not wholly known something, Hermione did not want to give away her ignorance. Especially since Draco really seemed to know what he was talking about.   


“Yes,” she mumbled. “Perfect.”

The three fairies carrying those flowers flew forward, and the Fairy Queen plucked the petals from each until her arms were full. Hermione watched as she then tossed them in the air. But instead of falling to the ground, the petals stayed aloft before melding together in a circular pattern until they formed two lovely, pink rings.

Hermione appraised the rings as they floated at her waist level. They seemed to be a good size. Stretching her palm forward, Hermione held one of the rings in her palm, bringing it close to her face to inspect.

“How very curious.” The ring hardly felt like anything at all in her hand, but when she pinched it between her two fingers, it felt quite solid.

“Are you ready to be married?”   


Hermione looked up to see that Draco also held a ring in his palm. He seemed fascinated by it, turning the little pink thing round and round as though he couldn’t look away. Something about this boy was so very different from any other boy she had met in school or otherwise. Most other boys would scoff at a pink ring made of flowers and would scarcely talk to her without teasing her, let alone want to teacher about magic and have grand adventures.   


If she was going to marry someone, she supposed Draco would be a good choice.

“I am ready,” she pronounced. “What do we do?”   


“Please exchange rings and then kiss,” the Fairy Queen explained.

“Do you know the right finger?” Draco asked as he turned to face Hermione.

Though Hermione supposed she had seen wedding rings hundreds of times in her life, she could not quite recall which finger they sat on. Besides, her memories of her parents were starting to grow a bit fuzzy.

When she didn’t respond, Draco piped up, “That’s all right. I’ll give you this ring first, then.”   


He reached for her hand and slipped the ring on her fourth finger. It immediately shrunk to fit her little hands. Copying Draco, she did the same with the ring still in her palm, sliding it onto his fourth finger.

Delight was etched on every inch of his little, pointed face, his dimples on full display.

“And now the kiss,” the Fairy Queen prompted.

Draco reached both his hands forward for her to take, and she did. The feel of the flower ring laced against her fingers was comforting, as though it was always meant to be there.

The two leaned toward each other and pressed their lips together in a sweet, innocent kiss.

Immediately, the fairies around them burst into cheers, flying about so the forest was alight. Hermione felt her heart flutter as Draco pulled back and beamed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could escape, the Fairy Queen cried out in jubilation, “The wedding feast awaits!”

Hermione had quite forgotten how hungry she was. It had been hours since she had last eaten. When had that been? Somewhere far from here… but where?

No matter.

Before them, all manner of delicious-looking food began to appear. Jams and jellies and puddings of all kinds; pies and cakes and a veritable mountain of fruit awaited them.

It all materialized onto tiny tables for all the fairies and onto one human-sized table for Hermione and Draco. The children quickly took their seats and began to devour the feast put on in their honour. And when they finished, they drank delicious glasses of milk to settle their stomachs.

All the while as they ate, Hermione tried to smile at Draco, but each time she turned her head, she found him to be looking determinately at his plate.   


When the feast had been cleared away, the fairies once more retreated to the edge of the clearing in front of the ancient tree.   


“And now, human children, you shall dance.”

Hermione was far too content and filled with food to protest. Draco pulled her to her feet and they made their way to the center of the fairies. From one side of the crowd, an airy sort of tune began to play. Hermione supposed it must be fairy music.

Draco took hold of her waist and hand, and began to lead them in a gentle circle.

She thought she might ask him where he learned to dance, but the moment she looked at his moonstruck face, she forgot all her thoughts. How quickly she had come to love this boy! Though silly he seemed to be, there was a sweetness about him that she couldn’t ignore, no matter how many frogs he turned blue.

He grinned at her, and Hermione swore she was floating.

Except…   


She really was floating!   


Hermione’s first inclination was to panic; her heart began palpitating and her hands began to shake. But Draco squeezed her waist and smiled at her reassuringly. And though she had never flown in her life, in this moment, she felt that was all she was born to do, safe in Draco’s arms.

High, high toward the branches they climbed until they broke through the canopy, leaving the fairies behind. From this vantage point, they could see the moon, globed and glowing above them.

“Oh, how lovely!” Hermione cried, soaking in its blue light.

“Not as lovely as you, my little wife,” Draco said, twirling her about.

And Hermione was delighted to be twirled, but as she turned, she saw something funny in the distance. It was glittering in the dark. Familiar, somehow.

“What is that place?” she asked as Draco spun her back toward him.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I think I might know it.”

They danced in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s presence. But Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that those lights were somehow important to her.

“I think someone might live there,” she said after a while as they continued to dance. “Someone I care dearly about.” Hermione could not explain how she knew this, but something inside told her what she was saying was correct.   


“But aren’t I the person you care dearly about?” Draco asked, worry shining in his eyes.   


“Oh, I do care about you,” Hermione reassured him. “But I can’t help feeling that there’s something  _ more. _ Like I’m forgetting something terribly important. Don’t you feel it?”   


Draco shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. I thought we were going to have lots of grand adventures now that we’re married. I’ll teach you all about magic! We ran away together, didn’t we?”   


As soon as the last words crossed Draco’s lips, Hermione’s memory came drifting back. She remembered it all: her parents and her school; her cruel classmates and her lovely walk through the woods.   


She remembered that her mum and dad were expecting her for dinner.

“Oh dear!” she cried and burst into tears.   


The two began to float back toward the ground as Hermione’s heart grew heavy. “What shall I do? I want to learn about magic and go on grand adventures with you, Draco! I want to play being married to you and stay with you always, but I also want to go home. What to do?”

Hermione fretted as she sat down on the ground. Draco patted her back.   


By now, the fairies had all retreated to their little homes, all except the Fairy Queen. The clearing that had been once so full of golden light now stood still and blue in the moonlight.   


“I don’t know what to do,” Hermione admitted between sniffs. “I don’t want to forget my family and my old life. But there’s so much to know about the world – so much about magic and fairies and all the wonderful things I only thought existed in dreams.”   


Hermione turned to face Draco, who looked at her with sadness and affection. “And what about you? If you should go home, your parents will try to arrange your marriage.”

Draco offered her a sad smile. “If you return, I wish I could come with you,” he admitted.

“You would never be happy living with me – going to my school. Magic is far too wondrous for you to live without. You’re a wizard, and I’m just a plain girl.”

Hermione lamented each word as it crossed her lips.   


“Oh, my children,” said the Fairy Queen, who now approached the sad couple. “Do not be so upset. This game of yours – it does not have to end once you leave the Land of Fairies.”   


Both Hermione and Draco looked up, hope in their eyes.

“It doesn’t?” Hermione asked through her tears.

“Oh no. Certainly it doesn’t. The rings you exchanged and the love you share remain ever as real as you wish them to be. Even if you leave this place and return to your old lives, you shall be forever entwined if you both wish it.”

Draco grasped Hermione’s hand – the left one with the flower ring on the fourth finger.

“I wish it,” Draco said. “I wish for many more adventures with Hermione.”

“And I wish for more adventures and a kiss with Draco,” said Hermione, blushing.

“So it shall be,” said the Fairy Queen. “But for now, you should rest, my children. It is very late, and you must be exhausted.”

The Fairy Queen raised her arms. In front of the ancient, gnarled tree, a bed of leaves swirled into a soft-looking bed.

“That does look comfortable,” suggested Hermione. “Perhaps we could just nap for a bit. We can decide what to do when we wake up.”

Draco nodded, and the two settled side by side on the ground, pillowed by the softest leaves they had ever felt. Lying side-by-side, Hermione felt safe, as though nothing could ever harm her if she only stayed just like this.

“Hey Hermione,” Draco whispered. She turned to face him, the leaves rustling under her as she moved. He looked so very sweet, his face just inches from her own. His blonde hair fell in his face as he yawned.   


“Yes?”   


“If we do go home, will you promise not to forget me?”

Hermione smiled and reached for his hand.

“I promise.”

“And I’ll promise you that I’ll come find you one day. It may be years, but I’ll do my best to stop my marriage to Astoria. Just please wait for me, Hermione. I don’t think I could bear it if you don’t wait.”

“I’ll wait. I swear it.”

The two children fell asleep, their foreheads touching and their fingers intertwined.   


* * *

When Hermione woke to sunlight streaming past her eyelids, she did not immediately open her eyes.

Last night had been so lovely. She simply did not want to wake – she wanted to stay here next to Draco in the Land of Fairies just a bit longer before she set out on a new adventure.

Hermione rolled to her side to snuggle into Draco. But where she thought she might find another warm body to cuddle, instead, she found nothing. Eyes still closed, she felt for the leaves that had cushioned her the night before.

But to her surprise, it was not leaves she felt under her, but instead, a soft, plush mattress.

Hermione’s eyes flew open.

The sunlight streaming in wasn’t coming from the canopy at all, but instead, from behind the soft blue curtains of her bedroom window. The ancient, gnarled tree had gone, as had all the fairies and… and…

And Draco.

Hermione sat up, her heart racing as she crawled over her bed in search of the world she had left behind as she slept. But as she frantically looked around, it became perfectly clear to her that this place was not the Land of Fairies or even the forest.

It was simply her bedroom.

A knock at the door interrupted Hermione before the heartache could really set in.

Mum cracked the door open and stuck her head in. “Darling, are you awake? It’s nearly breakfast time.”

Hermione rubbed her eyes and blinked. Why wasn’t her mum angry? She had been gone late into the night, surely.

“How long have I been asleep, Mum?”   


“Since rather early last night. You came home from school rather worn out yesterday and went straight to sleep without supper. Don’t you remember?”   


Hermione knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. “So… so I was in bed all last night?”   


Mum moved to sit on her bed, pushing her hair off her forehead and placing the back of her hand there.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, darling?”

“I feel fine, Mum.”

So if she had been here all night, had it all been a dream, then? The heartache that she had held at bay for a moment took hold with tenacity, and she couldn’t stop the melancholy that took hold of her heart.

There had been no adventure, no fairies, no magical boy…

Her mum studied her for a moment more before standing up. “Well come downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll get you a nice piece of toast. You can even have some marmalade if you like. It’ll be a special treat.”

Hermione thought back to the great feast from last night, with all its delicious pies and cakes and puddings… she would have much preferred that to a bit of marmalade.

_ But, _ Hermione reminded herself,  _ none of that had been real at all. _

It was best to forget it and prepare for school, then.

Hermione pulled on her school uniform. After taking a peek at the blustery weather outside, she decided to wear a thick jumper.

As she tugged the sleeves over her hands, though, she spotted something strange on one of her fingers. It was some sort of odd mark. She pulled her hair out of the neck of the jumper and brought the finger up to her eye level.

Yes, if she looked – there, on her fourth finger of her left hand, there was a little pink circle that stretched all the way around the skin.

It couldn’t be… could it?

The colour of the markings matched the beautiful flower ring that the Fairy Queen had made for her and Draco the night before.

“Gardenia, calla lily, and tulip.”   


Hermione whispered the flower names to herself and felt body tingle a bit. If she still had the ring markings, did that mean… had it really happened? Her mind flew to the little magical boy, Draco. Had he woken up this morning with the markings still on his finger?   


She hoped so.

For years, Hermione held onto hope that there really was a magical boy out there somewhere who had a matching mark on his fourth finger. But she could never find him. Eventually, his face became fuzzy, as did his voice. Many of the details from that night faded from her memory. It all faded until one day, she woke to find she couldn’t quite recall where she had gotten the pink mark on her finger from.

Had it been an accident? Or perhaps a birthmark? She simply wasn’t sure.

But not everything faded. Even as she finished primary school and began to feel grown up, she held onto one memory. And it was a funny memory, really. She had been flying – floating in the air with a boy. And sometimes – just sometimes – there was a green squirrel watching them from the ground below.

It was a silly memory, but it visited her so often in dreams that  _ somehow _ she knew it had to be true. It had to be real.

There had to be magic in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a bittersweet ending, isn't it? 
> 
> Let me know what you think <3 
> 
> Thank you to TheMourningMadam for running this delightful fest!


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